Constellations visible in May
by NotThereNeverAround
Summary: With Luke and Nicole at the Independence Inn, Jess returns to an empty apartment after Kyle's party, while Rory lends Dave a hand to get Lane home. And suddenly she's tired of not talking. Lit. AU Keg! Max! 3.19
1. Chapter 1

**Rating:** T for some cursing.

**Disclaimer**: Gilmore Girls belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB/CW.

* * *

At least the damn place was deserted.

10.37 and it was literally deserted. Anywhere else and it'd have to be 4am before it got this quiet. Not that his neighborhood ever really got _this _quiet.

Collapsed drunks, maybe. Or the stumblers: habitually, stubbornly upright. Coughed up by the rumbling subway that swallowed the nightshift. Shrill hookers less shrill as they dwindled and strung out.

Dawn guaranteed a walk of shame or two.

Crossing another street he kicked a rock-chip and it skidded into the curb. Ricocheted. Didn't break.

No one in the street. No one in the square. Lit up like a Christmas tree for no one. The diner, dark. Apartment too, like a light gone out, but -

Right.

Luke and the lawyer at Lorelai's inn. Cosy. Like that wasn't awkward as hell.

His stomach lurched as he felt in a pocket for his key. But then he hadn't really eaten all day. Not since breakfast. Not since he walked out of Merton's office.

The stale onion-ring smell didn't help, and he took the stairs out of there two at a time.

* * *

Despite Lane's protestations that Rory, like Dave, was an only child, Rory had accompanied the couple to the Kims' and stood at the corner of the fence, ready to plead Lane's case if she got turned away at the front door.

_If thine eye offends thee ... _

Not that she had any faith in her debating skills up against Mrs Kim's formidable theology.

Something about reformed sinners' souls being dearer ...

But when Lane let herself in and Mrs Kim was nowhere to be seen, she offered Rory a silent shrug and closed the door without another look back. So dark inside. All Rory could do was telegraph the shrug halfway down the block to Dave leaning against the trunk of his car.

He reflected it back. Rubbed the back of his neck wearily. Shaking his head as he got in and drove away.

* * *

The glass of water gave edges to the raw feeling. Ridges ranged up against his tongue, tweaking something that had to be a dent in his cheekbone. Ferric as he swallowed and rolled his right shoulder, like it was loose in the socket under his hand and needed winding. A muscle slung across his back cut too tightly over the shoulder blade, and, as the heat was going out of it, a line started to beat its way around his side, probably tattooing itself indigo for tomorrow.

Jess lit the lamp at his bedside. Not tired for the first time in months. And after all, the empty apartment gave him what he wanted for once. Finally, some peace and frigging quiet with no one on his back. Alone so he could think for just one minute because for Christ's sake what the hell and would this shitty day not just end already?

Because he wanted to think. Needed to think. To think what he -

But the silence and the static and her face - -And his damn jaw was crunching like cement and wouldn't snap.

Away from the light he threw himself on the couch. The book his elbow caught slumped closed on the floor.

* * *

Rory wrapped arms around herself and felt inertia seize her as she cast her eye over the square. It never had before, but its cheery toytown brightness struck her now as cold and incongruous. Not just empty but hollow.

Above it, chill stars burning indifferently down.

It was a joke that she'd be grounded if she came home before midnight, but Lorelai had made a point of encouraging her daughter to enjoy a last night of freedom before the finals-pressure kicked in. And here she was.

At the opposite of a party.

A white fairylight wake for a dead town. On her own because he ... because she -

A light went on in the apartment above the diner and it felt like her heart sucked itself shut.

It opened out hot again and flooded her cheeks.

And then she was moving. Fast. Crossing the street without thinking what she'd do when she arrived there.

Luke at the inn.

Jess. Maybe. The light. Maybe.

A bay tree in a planter. A handful of tiny, roundish pebbles. Three sailing through the air when it suddenly hit her that she was a terrible shot. And what if the window broke? What if Mrs Slutsky's window broke?

They hit brick.

Six left in her hand. They almost felt soft. Was it pumice or something? _Fake _pumice? Was there even -? Maybe something specifically ... horticultural? One crumbled as she pressed it hard in the fingers of her other hand.

Two more were let fly.

Because she wasn't about to use the key above the door and get yelled at for arriving in another room unasked. (Did they miss?) But it was way past the time to talk, and she was tired of not talking, so god knows she was going to give it one last shot, and this was all she could do. One. Two. Three.

All connected.

* * *

Rats? Roaches, maybe. But then three more taps and definitely on the glass, so he thrust up the blind thinking the _Scarlet Letter _crap in this town was frigging out of hand because if those were eggs someone was going to pay in about thirty seconds.

He didn't open the window. She didn't call out.

Because Mrs Slutsky would throw a fit, she knew. And because no matter how much she wanted to reach him, there wasn't going to be another one-act play about their issues rehearsed in front of everyone. Even if Mrs Slutsky constituted the entirety of everyone.

Instead, he stared down at her, looking like a shocked and miserable ghost.

Then he disappeared.

Disappeared without a word and she was furious. Stock-still on the sidewalk fly-strip because she couldn't believe him. Not even a mute shrug. Goddammit. So she turned on her heel.

The bell above the diner's door chimed. His shadow in the doorway.

Her feet taking her past him as he moved aside.

* * *

Something halted her behind the first chair she came to, gripping its braced back as the bell rang again with the door's close. He set himself with a thud of one hip against the counter-front, and despite the dimness she could've sworn he winced.

"Does it hurt?"

"Nope."

Her right foot rocked outwards onto its edge and back.

"It looked like it would hurt."

"Yeah, well, you know what they say about appearances."

Her teeth met with a force that sent the ankle rolling again.

"He shouldn't've gone after you like that," she said.

"Whatever."

She scrunched her toe at the base of a chair-leg, her hair falling forward as she looked down. A dull buzz began to pulse in her wrists as she leaned.

The key clunked mutely against wood.

"Tell me," she said.

"Tell you what?"

"What's wrong. What's the matter. Tell me."

He shrugged.

"Don't do that. Don't shrug like everything's fine. Everything's _not _fine, Jess - -And I don't even mean what happened back there, or yelling at me, or any of that. Just talk to me. It's not too much to ask, is it?"

He hadn't looked up from the shadow of the diner's Closed sign.

"Or is it?"

Glancing up, he caught his lip cruelly and bit down. His eyes slid sideways and she lost her patience.

"God!" she burst out, pushing up off the chair, the heel of one hand dragging across her forehead. "Jess, I came here to talk because we need to talk. I did the stupid, humiliating pebble-thing because we need to talk. And not just about the fight and if you're hurt or not, but because you're miserable and you're hiding and there's something going on with you - -Something you're not telling me, and I don't know why. And that's not good enough anymore, okay? It's not. So if you don't want to talk, and you're not going to tell me what the hell is the matter, then I'm just going to go because there's really no point me trying to fix this or help you or - -Or _anything_, if you don't want any of -"

"'Cos it's that easy, right?"

"It should be. I'm your girlfriend, Jess; it should be. At least it would be if ... if you ..."

"If I what?"

"If you loved me, okay?" she blurted. "Because I love _you._- -But, boy, does that ever sound stupid when you say it to someone who won't even talk to you. Who walks away when you're trying to -"

"Rory -"

"I have to go," she said, swiping her eyes with a sleeve and turning away. "I'm sorry I - -That we -"

"Don't," he said. And the hand reaching for the handle fell slightly with its weight. "Just ... stay, okay?"

She lingered.

"Rory."

He'd come forward behind her, but as she faced him he backed up a foot or so to pull the nearest chair out a few inches. Stopped and closed his hand on the top-rail. Tighter with the silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating:** T for some cursing.

**Disclaimer**: Gilmore Girls belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB/CW.

* * *

When she made her way back into the room he scraped it back a little more before giving its neighbour a kick that sent it skidding a couple of feet out from the table. Dropped heavily onto it and laced his fingers behind his head, turning closed eyes on the ceiling.

She sat, still smearing at her left eye. Twitched her nose in a sniff and prayed hands together between her thighs, hunching.

The breath he sent up gave out in the end, and after that everything just sort of tumbled down. With effort he leaned an elbow on the sticky formica, knuckling his temple and intent on a mug ring on the surface.

"I hate that, you know?" he said. Finally. Finally looking up at her. Lines drawn between her eyebrows.

The hand on his knee gestured at her vaguely. "That you're crying. And before. That I -" She watched him shake his head on the knuckle-pivot and sniffed again. "- -It's messed up."

Hands still clasped, her shoulder rose to brush ineffectually a straggling lock of hair away from her face.

"Look," he continued, "what happened back there ... I ... I was outta line, okay? I mean the yelling and whatever, but the stuff before ... it wasn't -"

"I don't care," she said.

"You -?"

"I'm not mad at you, Jess," she said, cutting across his quizzical look. "Not for ... you know. For _that_."

"No?"

"Well," she paused, "I still don't get why you'd think _there_ was a good -"

"I don't. I don't know why, alright? It was dumb. But I just ... I don't know."

He lapsed into silence and pushed a thumbnail against the rim of the coffee stain, flaking it slowly.

She rushed out, "I'm sorry I said - -I mean, I know there's nothing _wrong _with you, but -"

"Rory, come on," he said, "you don't have to -"

"Anyway," she said, increasing her volume a little, "I was mad at you _then _for getting mad at me. Right now? I think I ..."

Nothing came.

She frowned out a huff and began again, "If I'm still mad at you at all it's because you won't tell me what's up with you. Or haven't yet, anyway. So spill, Jess, what is it?"

He sighed.

Something whirred and clicked into life in the kitchen, settling into a low electric hum. Her clamped lips started to go warm at the pressed edges.

A breeze shivered the door in its frame, and he unbent suddenly, forearm hitting the table-top.

"Stupid place kicked me out okay?"

"But -"

"Actually, pretty much dropped out a couple' weeks ago, but they just got around to letting me know, so ..."

He shrugged.

"You mean ... today?"

A nod.

"But," she said, "how is that even -? Why wouldn't they tell you, or - -How come they didn't call Luke?"

"Beats me." Another shrug. "Said they gave me enough warning slips or whatever, but I figured they'd've hauled me in if they were serious. Or dragged Luke down there or something."

"They should have called Luke at least," she said animatedly. "Or written a letter, or - -Something! I don't get it. This isn't right, Jess," she told him with a shake of her head. "They can't just - -Well first you need to tell Luke and then we -"

"Know any good motels? And when I say good, I mean cheap."

"What? Why?"

"You think he's gonna just roll out the welcome mat after this crap? He wants me gone _yesterday_."

"That's bull, Jess, and you know it."

"You think, huh?"

"Fine," she conceded with a sigh. "But if he's going to wig he's going to wig _more _at Principal Merton - -Or that dopey ... whatshername? The secretary. Okay, you skipped school, but they let you, Jess. They let you for, what, twenty-something days?"

"About that," he said, looking round at the register. "Little more maybe."

"So, twenty five?"

He didn't nod.

"Thirty? Jess, you missed _thirty _days? That's six weeks of -"

"Hey, in case you didn't notice, not everyone's got a trust fund just sitting around waiting for 'em to start raking it out."

"Jess -"

"Sorry, look, I'm not trying to be a jerk, but ..." His shoulders lifted. "Seriously, you think I don't know I fucked up? And come on, it's not like there's a million ways this could've played out, you know? No way I'm sticking at this ridiculous _Odd Couple_ thing forever - -Hell, no way Luke wants me here past my _mythical _graduation, so what am I supposed to do, huh? I'm working my ass off and now what? Car's gone, job's gone, kicked out sooner or later -"

"But -"

"I got nothing, okay?" rifled out fast and hard. "I'm screwed."

She covered her silent mouth.

"So," he said. And paused. "There you go." He shrugged and managed a smirk. "Feel better?"

Not bitterly.

He rested both elbows on his knees, head dropping as his hands almost came together, then simply hung. "Christ, even Liz graduated high school."

Her thumbnail parted her teeth. "Maybe if you take summer school -"

"Nope. Said repeat or get out, that's it."

"But they messed up, Jess. Luke can get a meeting, then they'll see, and -"

"Yeah, don't hold your breath," he said looking up. Expressionless.

It brought the thumbnail back between her teeth.

He wrenched himself up and sat back, harrowing a palm down over his mouth.

Setting her chin on her fist, she said, "We should try, though."

His eyebrows rose, drawing her shoulders up in response as she went on, "It can't hurt to try."

"Okay," he said with half a shrug. "If you say so."

Her small smile tugged hard at the corner of his mouth.

"And ... I mean, it'd be worth it if it works." She hesitated. "Wouldn't it?"

He was nodding rhythmically when he said, "To spend another crappy summer on my own in this dump? Sure."

"So ... what if I write this time?" she said coyly.

"To really rub it in?"

"Jess."

He levered an arm up to the back of the chair and cocked his head, hand scruffing through the back of his hair. "Then I guess I'll have something to read."

She pointed a sharp finger. "No deal unless you write back, mister."

"Rory Gilmore, Continental Europe, right?"

"Oh, come on. Didn't you ever think sending something _poste restante _was romantic?"

"Because apparently we're still in the Jazz Age."

"How about," she mused, "I send letters, you Yahoo?"

"No postcards?"

She wrinkled her nose. "The mailman can read what you put on a postcard."

"Huh."

"Shut up," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Fine," he nodded. "If you want."

"Deal?"

"Deal."

"So you'll tell Luke when he gets back?"

"Wait, I don't think I understood this deal."

"Jess, you know you can't -"

"Look, it's not like I have a choice, is it? Not unless those motels you're gonna tell me about are so cheap they're actually free."

"Seriously, don't trust the proprietor when they say you'll 'Work something out,'" she smirked.

"Your mind's just _all _class, isn't it?"

She smiled and set an elbow on the table to lean her cheek on the heel of her hand.

"Plead the fifth, huh?" he said.

"So you'll talk to Luke?"

"You see a way I can avoid it?"

"Okay. Good."

"Yeah, I don't think that word means what you think it means."

"Pfft," she said, flicking her foot at his. "So ... Lane got sick."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And she drunk-dialled her mom," she said with assumed breeziness.

"Holy -"

"Yup. Told her all about the party, the band. Dave - -The whole thing."

"Huh. You said goodbye, right?"

"I should check my passport."

"Good idea."

Her free hand swept hair behind her ear before she pinned the palm on the table with her elbow.

"I mean, I'll email too," she said. "But letters are -"

"Look, what you said before -"

"Forget it, Jess."

"I don't wanna forget it."

"But I don't want you to feel like -"

"I don't. I just - -It's not something you just ..."

"I know," she broke in at the pause. "I know that. I _totally _know that. More than you know, and -"

"Never have, you know?"

"Oh," she said. The pads of two fingers drew over her lips.

"Yeah, so ..."

She got up.

His watching eyes reacted faster, but he sat quickly upright, mouth open.

Two steps to stand between his knees.

Laid a palm on his cheek and stooped to kiss him.

Just once.

"Huh."

Still craning back to look up. Literally taken aback.

"It's okay, Jess."

"What is?"

"Everything."

"Huh."

"No pressure," she said.

But he fitted his thumbs to her waist as he straightened, and before she knew it the edge of the table ruled across the backs of her thighs. Fingers snaked into her hair at the base of her skull.

It was the kiss that hitched her up that half inch. Just enough weight off treacherous legs.

The kiss that emptied her heart until it stuttered hard onto her ribs, but differently.

"I do though," he said beneath her ear. "Love you. And you know it."

She almost couldn't nod.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and reviewing. There's more, but, just for a change, I thought I'd publish this without waiting to have the whole thing finished beforehand. I hope you'll stick around.


	3. Chapter 3

"Wha -?" answered Luke, thick with sleep.

The phone had been ringing. And ringing. Still ringing when Nicole pushed at his shoulder and said something unintelligible as she rolled over and away.

"Luke? It's Lorelai. I'm -"

"Lor'lai?"

"From downstairs? Annoying woman, drinks a lot of coffee? You're at my -"

"I know, I know, but why're you -?"

"Calling you at - -Whoa there, yup, it's early alright. Luke, I'm so sorry, and if it's any consolation I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing - -Which, yeah, it's probably not consoling at all to hear that, but -"

"Lorelai, come on, what is it?" Luke said, shoving back an elbow beneath the pillow to prop himself up. "Are you alright? Is it Rory? Is she -?"

"She's fine, Luke. Or she says she is, anyway. I think - -I don't know," Lorelai continued ruminatively, "She's always got the weight of the world on her, you know? But I wonder if maybe it's getting a little heavier lately."

"Uh ..."

"Man, I really am annoying, aren't I? It's not Rory I'm calling about, Luke, I'm sorry. It's Jess. He -"

"Is he okay?" But his voice flattened rapidly. "What did he do?"

"Nothing. Well, not nothing, but - -Anyway, he's fine, I think. I mean, Rory said he's fine, but - -Look, maybe you should just come down and we can -"

"But he's okay? Lorelai just tell me if -"

"Luke, listen to me: he's probably fine, okay? And it's probably just my stupid, defective maternal-instinct thing that's kicking in, which, yes, is totally weird, I know. And seriously, I'm not trying to freak you out or ruin your weekend - -If you weren't going out of town, believe me, I would _not _be calling you at godawful o'clock, right now -"

"Okay, okay," he clipped wearily, "I'm coming down." He righted himself, scratching the crown of his head and muttering, "I don't know, nothing's ever - -I'm coming down, alright?"

"You drink that weird camomile tea stuff, right?"

"Don't ... just - -You're in your office?"

"Uh-huh, but chill a little, Luke, okay? We can straighten this thing out together, I'm pretty sure, and - -Or, you know, not _together_, but with them, and - -I mean -"

"I'm coming down, so ..."

"Right," she said. "Okay. I'm here."

* * *

"Hey, wanna watch?" called Lorelai as Rory closed the front door behind her. "The old lady's just about to get out of the bath tub. How'd the party go?"

"The band was great," Rory said, approaching the couch where Lorelai sat up to make room for her. "Really great." But the mechanism of her enthusiasm was running down and when she fell back into the space and settled, she finished tiredly, "They were ... great."

"Yeah? Cool."

"Yeah," she said, nodding on auto-pilot and pressing a finger against a ridge in the denim by her knee.

"Rory, if the party sucked you can say, you know. I won't hold you resp -"

"No, it was fine," Rory said, looking up. "It's just ... - -It's been a long night, that's all."

"Ugh, tell me about it. Michel bailed on me and suddenly I'm doing turn-down service like I just slipped through a wormhole into 1985. And even better, it's Luke and Nicole and log fires and pillow-mints, and I'm shrivelling up inside with this stupid grin plastered across my face." She pointed at the gameshow rictus with a gameshow finger. "Still, better than dinner with my mother, so there's that."

"Hence the ice-cream," Rory said, indicating the tub in Lorelai's hand.

"Hence is right. And ha ha for letting them extort tomorrow night out of you, by the way. I mean, there must be a whole host of bad parties you could go to on a _Saturday _night, right?"

"It wasn't bad, it was just ..."

"Terrible? Horrible? Emily Gilmore?"

"Mom," Rory said around a cold mouthful.

"Come on, it's 12.28: what gives? Was it really that lame? Did someone throw up in the Ming vase? 'Cos there's always one -"

"I don't think the Gibsons have Ming vases, Mom. They're more Hummel people."

"I guess. And I swear to God, the Lovencranzes must have switched out the Macallan's for some cheap stuff because - -Anyway make with the details already, or no more spoon for you." She took it hostage from where Rory had left it planted in the fudge swirl.

"If only there were more spoons that were easily located in a kitchen-type space not a million miles away."

"_All _spoons. I forbid you spoons."

Rory exhaled a laugh, rolling her eyes.

"Come on," Lorelai cajoled, "regale me with tales of the guy face down in the cheese nips, the hair-pulling, the vomit - -Did anyone even break up? Tell me there was a fight at least."

* * *

Luke found Cesar opening the diner, whistling something badly as he bustled out from the kitchen towards the counter.

"Hey, Luke. Aren't you supposed to be -"

"Jess upstairs?" Luke interposed shortly.

"Yeah, I think so. I heard the shower running when I got here, but I didn't -"

"It's okay, Cesar, I'll be ..." Luke glanced at the curtained doorway. "I'll be down here in a couple of minutes or something, so ... - -Did the delivery get here?"

"No, but it's Saturday and it's Tony, so -"

"Oh yeah," said Luke, nodding as he rubbed at his stubble abstractedly.

"Late like always," Cesar chuckled.

"Right, right." Luke dragged at the other cheek. The silence brought him back to Cesar looking up at him, unnaturally still, a napkin holder in both hands four inches above the counter. "Would you -?"

"That's fine, Luke, I'll take care of it." A grin broke readily across Cesar's face, and he presented the napkin holder forward onto the surface. "So your trip didn't -?"

"No. We, uh, ... I'll be down soon, alright?" he said, eyeing the curtain again. "Thanks for ... you know."

"Sure, Luke. No problem."

* * *

"The cops?"

Another bead of condensation rolled down the ice cream carton, leaving a fattening ring of water on the table.

"Mmm-hmm."

"As in, the po-po?"

"Yup."

"Stars Hollow's finest?"

"Mom."

"Because of the fight, though?"

"I don't know," Rory shrugged. "They came pretty quickly if it was."

"So it was a short fight."

"Not really. It felt like it went on forever."

"Oh?" said Lorelai, her eyebrows rising.

"Yeah." Rory's thumbnail edged between her teeth. "And then Lane started throwing up."

"Aww, poor Lane!"

"It gets worse. She called Mrs Kim."

"Bad?"

"Very. Apparently, beer is Lane's sodium pentothal."

"Uh-oh. What did she say?"

"Well, she slept those few blocks in the car - -With the windows down because of the back pack -"

"Back pack?"

"You don't want to know."

"So, moving on ..." Lorelai said, her forefingers hamster-wheeling.

"Dave - who I swear looked paler even than Lane - from what he overheard she was in full flow about the two of them rocking together and Young Chu being a boat."

"Holy crap."

"I know."

"Well, I'll miss her," Lorelai said, making a showy shrug.

"Don't," Rory said with a fast look. "I'm actually starting to worry about it now." Her gaze had fallen to her lap, where interleaved fingers twisted until their wrenched knuckles whitened.

"Oh sweetie, c'mere." Lorelai sent an arm around Rory that squeezed them shoulder to shoulder. "It'll probably all work out, you know. Sure, Lane'll wish she picked her moment better, but in the long run, those two needed to get this stuff out in the open, don't you think?"

"I guess." Rory's teeth met again on the thumbnail.

"Look at you, you're biting your nails. Rory, honey, Lane's gonna be fine. She just -"

"Jess and Dean were in the fight."

* * *

Luke put his shoulder to the glass door that led into the apartment and swung in fast enough to see Jess in front of his dresser, one arm through the long sleeve of a grey t-shirt and the other crooked awkwardly at the elbow as he pulled it through.

"Quite a mark you got there," Luke said evenly as he sent the door shuddering into its frame.

Jess yanked the shirt hard down at his side. "What're you doing here?"

"Lorelai."

"Jeez."

It came with an eye-roll as he tossed things aside in the drawer that stood open, then jolted it further out. The second shirt went quickly over his head followed by a settling shrug.

The next shrug was one-sided, but he focused the frown on the watch at his bedside, turning away to start fixing it to his wrist.

"So," said Luke, "what happened?"

"Nothin'."

"Jess, I know about the fight with Dean, so get talking or -"

"Dean started it."

"I know."

"What?" said Jess, surprised into turning finally to face Luke.

"Rory told Lorelai, Lorelai tells me," Luke said plainly.

Gritting his teeth so hard reminded Jess's jaw it still ached.

"At six a.m., Jess," Luke went on. "And believe me it's nice and fresh in my mind 'cos it's," he checked his watch, "six thirty-eight _now_. So, I ask again, what happened?"

"Nothin'."

"Jess, I'm not kidding around here. Lorelai said the cops shut this thing down. Did they speak to you? Are you -?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"Jesus, Luke, I defended myself, okay? The jerk sucker-punches me and I defend myself. The end."

"Lorelai said -"

"Will you let it die already?"

"Was it Rory?"

"Was _what _Rory? What're you talking about?"

"The fight. It was about Rory, right?"

"Did she tell you that?"

"Not in so many words, but -"

Jess shrugged. "Look, ask him. He -"

"Started it, yeah, I heard."

"Well he did."

"And you're telling me you don't know why?"

Another shrug. "Guy's wanted a piece of me since I got here, so -"

"Because of Rory," pressed Luke.

"Whatever. Don't ask me what that creep's got going on upstairs. I, uh ..." Jess stumbled. "I mean, who knows if the lights are even on in there, you know?" he finished, tapping his temple twice.

"Yeah, I guess. But -"

The phone rang, then rang again as they looked at each other. At the phone. Still ringing.

* * *

"Contributing factor?" Lorelai repeated, cocking her head to the side.

"It's not ... - -It's complicated."

"I'll bet. Is he okay?"

"Who, Dean? Why do you always -"

"No, I meant Jess, so aren't you glad you didn't finish that sentence?"

"Yes."

"Yes he's okay, or -"

"I think so. I don't know, Mom, it was awful. So, _so _awful and - -And he's on his own up there, with no-one, and he's just - -It's all so -"

"Shh, shh, it's fine," Lorelai soothed, retaking her hold around Rory's shoulders and rocking them both slightly side to side as she spoke. "It's all going to be fine, I promise. Maybe if I talked to Luke before -"

"You can't tell him," Rory said, whipping round to face her mother. "You promised you wouldn't."

"No, I didn't. I said, 'Go on.' "

"Mom -"

"Rory, seriously, you have to trust me on this, okay?"

"Trust you because you just pulled the classic 'Oh, you weren't specific enough' genie bit? That's supposed to inspire my trusting you?"

"Rory, come on."

"I'm going to bed," Rory said, hauling herself off the couch.

"Rory -"

The metallic reflex-snap of the handle sounded, the door already closed.

* * *

Luke shook his head as he crossed the apartment and answered, "Yeah, what is it?"

He frowned. Drew his head back sharply. Opened his mouth but didn't speak. Frowned more and pulled the phone away from his ear a fraction.

The voice buzzed incoherently into the room.

"Look," barked Luke into the receiver, "I'm a little busy, okay, John? I'll - -No, _you _listen. We'll settle this later, you got my word, but - -Fine! Check's in the mail."

Jess was leaning back against the kitchen counter with folded arms, shaking his head. Lip clamped and eyes on the ceiling. "Lemme guess ..."

"Did you _trash _this place?"

"No."

"Jess ..."

"Christ, it was a fight, Luke, I don't know. Maybe don't leave your stupid kid alone with his stupid friends if you don't -"

"What about the fence?"

"What fence?"

"Oh, come on -"

"What?"

"Did you break that fence? Or this china thing with teeth?"

"Look, all I know is when I walked away the frigging fence was fine, alright?" His arm swept out dismissively. "And I saw that dumbass wrap the stupid china crap so why the hell -"

"Okay, settle down. I'll -"

"Rory'll back me up, you know, so -"

"I know," Luke said, and it silenced him. "A check'll shut 'em up, so forget it, okay? God knows I better not get within fifty yards of that - -You know," Luke paused, a wry smile emerging as he gestured at the phone on the table, "I could hear the wife in the background calling him an idiot."

"Huh."

"Yeah," said Luke, mostly exhaling.

"Probably be getting a check back from Marriage Encounter too then," Jess said levely, feeling his shoulder and rolling it under his hand.

"You hurt?"

"Nah."

"You don't ... - -You think you need a doctor or -?"

"Nope."

"That bruise looked -"

"It's fine, alright? It's nothing."

"Coulda cracked a -"

"I said it's fine, jeez. And my shift at your place of business started forty-five minutes ago, so - "

"Okay," Luke said, his palms lifting quickly into the air, "if you say you're fine, you're fine. But listen, we need to talk about a few things later, Jess, I'm serious. So you better cancel any -"

"Great, here it comes," Jess said, conspicuously settling back against the counter.

"Jess you gotta take this stuff seriously 'cos there's no way you're just hanging 'round here all summer without a plan. We need to decide what you're doing after graduation and -"

"Wait, you dont -?" Jess pinched between his brows. "Huh."

"I don't what exactly?" Luke asked irritably.

"Now I get why that vein of yours didn't pop when you got up here."

"Jess ..." It rose like a hand-cranked warning siren.

The audible breath made his chest rise beneath the arms Jess folded, sighed out before he started in a bored monotone, "Merton kicked me out yesterday, okay? I was gonna tell you, but -"

"He _what_?"

"You heard."

"What did you do now?" Luke said grimly, the question undercut by the fall in his voice.

"Nothing."

"I don't buy it."

"Do I have to spell it out? They flunked me, alright? You miss a few days and they get to flunk you, apparently. And I am _not _repeating the whole frigging year when I could catch up like -"

"They won't let you catch up?" Luke interjected with a frown. "Why won't they let - -I mean, shouldn't they let you try and catch up before they just turn around and - -Wait ..." The frown hardened. "He kicked you out without so much as a by-your-leave to me? Why wasn't I told?"

Jess shrugged.

"You didn't take anything out of the mail?"

Jess's chin drew in sharply. "Wh-? No way, you think I -?"

"No, I don't, but I had to ask, didn't I? Come to think of it, you've got a bunch of mail in the pile on the safe that you - -Open your mail, Jess, for god's sake!"

"Whatever."

"But they know I'm responsible for you, dammit," Luke continued quickly, "I went down there and filled out all the stupid forms and - -Hell, I live across the street from the damn place, for crying out loud, so why wasn't I called? What am I, somekind of second-class chump in this whole thing, now? I swallowed that condescending speech he gave me last time, didn't I? Who does he think - -You know what, I'm gonna go down there and give -"

"It's Saturday," Jess intoned.

"Wh -? Oh. Yeah."

"Don't you have a ski-trip to get to?"

"No, Nicole said she'd call and cancel after Lorelai -"

"Jeez, why? Just go already, why don't you?"

"Jess, if you haven't noticed, there's a few things going on around here -"

"She's gonna be pissed." His head on one side, an index finger dug against a place in his eyebrow.

"No, she said it was fine," Luke retorted with a puzzled look. "She said -"

"Yeah, and you know women always say what they mean, right?"

"Jess, I'm staying here to try and fix some of this mess, so just -"

"Okay, whatever. Do what you want." He gripped the back of his neck, letting it drag under his hand with gravity until the arm fell.

"That's right," Luke affirmed staunchly. "And you're sure you didn't do anything over there?" he said, thumbing towards the school.

"Nope. Said I'd catch up, take summer school even." He shrugged. "I don't care."

"And you've been going since your car, uh - -The thing with your car?"

"Longest two weeks of 2003? Yeah, pretty much."

"Homework?"

"Uh ..."

Bubbles had collected up the sides of last night's stale glass of water.

Luke shook his head. "You're not gonna make this easy, are you?"

"Look, I can catch up, alright? I want it over. Tell me you didn't."


	4. Chapter 4

"What, school?" Luke cupped his chin and drew the fingers down. "I, uh ..."

"Yeah, I thought so." Not quite hidden by his folded arms, his thumb pressed and released against the nagging jump in his bicep.

Luke discarded the unanswered question, saying, "So you'd put the work in if I get this ironed out?"

"Why not? Got no place else to go now the car's gone."

Luke picked up the glass and moved to the sink to empty it, not facing Jess when he said, "I wasn't sure you actually quit."

"Didn't. Manager gave away my shift when I got stuck here. Said come back if I remembered how to be reliable," and under his breath he muttered, "Asshole."

Luke turned and rested against the counter's edge. "Then I'll go down to the school on Monday."

"If you want," Jess shrugged.

"Jess, I'm not doing this for my own amusement, so you better -"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just don't tell him you don't miss the dump," he said, jerking his head in the school's direction. "Doesn't really like that a whole lot."

"I'll tell that guy exactly what he needs to be told, don't you worry."

"Huh."

"And I'm here now, so why don't you stay up here and study and -"

"Yeah, right. When I have no idea if I'm even -?"

"But -"

"Is this because of the fight?" Jess interrupted, pushing himself off the kitchen counter and standing straight. "You can't ground me just because -"

"I'm not grounding you. I should maybe, but -"

"He started it."

"Give it a rest, Jess," Luke said in supplication to the ceiling. "Look, you're hurt, and I don't want -"

"For the last time, I'm not hurt, and I'm not -"

"You need to stay away from Dean." Luke released one of his hands from their lockdown in his armpits and pointed at Jess emphatically.

"_He _needs to stay away from me."

"Don't say stuff like that, Jess, or you'll talk yourself into getting grounded for real." He stopped wagging the triggered finger and instead wearily pushed his forehead into the V, squeezing vertical waves into skin usually cut by horizontals. After a moment he dropped the hand and said, "Come on, it can't hurt to just stay up here for a while until -"

"I am _not _staying up here."

"Oh, yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you -"

"That check you're cutting? You're gonna want that back, right? So you better let me work, don't you think? 'Cos there's no way you're cooping me up like some -"

"Fine," Luke broke in exasperated, "you can work, but if he's dumb enough to come by, you -"

"Relax, okay? All's good," Jess said as he backed towards the door showing empty hands to each side.

"We're gonna talk about this stuff with the school later, you know, so don't -"

The door slammed.

* * *

Lorelai had clattered the coffee pot on its hot-plate at 5.30 but, as far as she could tell, Rory didn't stir.

She still wasn't up when Lorelai let the front door close meatily when she left for the inn.

The truth was Lorelai had woken every hour until she couldn't bear it.

The truth was Rory was already at her desk in a concerted effort of studying, with each noise bowing her head a little further to the textbook.

* * *

_... some kind of disturbance at the Gibson place last night, according to the guys down at the station._

_Loud music, lotta kids drunk and brawlin' in the front yard, apparently._

_Garbage just everywhere._

In the market. In the diner. Across the manicure counter.

_Kids._

* * *

"You going in or what?"

Jess had nearly walked into him as he threw back the diner's door to leave. The guy just stood there, stooped and squirrelly and showing no sign of getting out of Jess's way.

"Uh ... no," broke off the weird stare. Something not far off ducking as he stepped aside and said, "Sorry," before taking off around the corner.

Jess looked askance at the retreating back then started for the bus stop on 3rd.

* * *

"Hey," she greeted him as he appeared and locked step beside her.

"Hey."

"Not working?"

"On break."

"Oh."

"Luke's back."

She stopped abruptly and he turned just ahead of her. "I told her not to. I made her promise - -But you were hurt and I was worried and that bruise started to-"

"Wait. So, she ... ?"

She shook her head. "No, we argued, so I - -God, I'm so mad at her!" she broke out, hopping the rucksack further up on her shoulder in irritation. "I should be able to tell her this stuff without - -I mean, she talks about Lane and Mrs Kim and then she does this! Just because you and Luke need to - -Jess," she said, taking a step closer and lowering her voice, "I didn't tell her your school stuff or any of that, so - "

"I know," he said, looking over his shoulder.

She mirrored him, and it made her quiet "Oh," sound quieter as it was addressed behind her. The bag was hoisted again with habit, a second hand coming across protectively to clutch its strap. She was unconsciously counting the bands of colour on his shirt.

His eyes lifted from the expanse of a white layer that was exposed below where the blue thing with buttons ended on her waist - likely the same thing that showed in a wedge above the buttons, now covered by her crossed forearm.

And having made this journey to where he found she wasn't looking at him expectantly, he said offhand, "Look, you can tell her what you want, I don't care. You like taffy?"

"What?"

Her brows knitted so quizzically his half-smile didn't go unseen as he looked down and delved in his pocket then spread his palm in front of her.

"Taylor's giving out free samples so -"

"Aww, you got me free samples? I love free samples," she said, taking one and turning it appreciatively between her fingers, letting the sunshine flare off the wrapper.

"On an unrelated point: you can't technically steal something that's free, right?"

"Jess!"

"Bet you twenty bucks I don't have that it tastes sweeter 'cos it's ripped off," he said nonchalantly.

She tried for a straight face. "And from Taylor, no less."

"In other words, you hold in your hand the sweetest candy known to man."

The final flash of his eyes loosed the laugh through her nose despite her prim mouth.

"In that case," she said, looking thoughtful, "Maybe I better save it 'til I'm standing next to Brady later."

His eyebrows raised the question.

"So he can stab me with his insulin," she said matter of factly, trying to pin down the corners of the smile.

"Huh."

Her breathing shallowed more and more the longer that look went on.

She swallowed against her drying throat and he heard her say, "You're not mad?"

His brow furrowed. "That you'd receive stolen goods? Yeah, I'm really disappointed you're so easily corruptible, Rory, don't you -"

"That I talked to her. That I -"

"Listen," he said, cupping the underside of her hand with his free one and emptying the rest of the taffy into it, "you'll tell her what you tell her. You think I want to get in the middle of that?"

"Well, ..."

"Doesn't mean I like the fact that she's so chatty with Luke, but ..." His shoulders lifted.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault she can't keep her mouth shut."

"No," she said, looking down and closing her hand on the candy. "I guess not."

She twisted her overfull fist into the pocket of her jacket.

"Anyway, I told him," Jess said.

Looking up and quickly raking hair back from her face she said, "You mean, about school or -?"

"Seems about as pissed at Merton as you were." The shrug sent him grimacing up at the too blue sky. "It was kinda funny."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so they're probably going to retroactively flunk him on Monday, but whatever. Don't you have some newspaper thing you're supposed to be at?"

She nodded. "And my grandparents tonight. Ugh, right now I just want to blow everything off and ... and -"

"And what?"

"I don't know, sit by a lake, lay on a beach? Maybe rock back and forth in a nice padded room?"

"You know ninety-nine times out of a hundred I'd say 'Alright, let's go', car or no car, right?"

The pad of her thumb pushed her lower lip into her mouth. She nodded.

"Look good for someone who's exhausted, still," he said with a tilt of his chin at her.

She wrinked her nose in dissent and was about to speak when she was forced to stifle a yawn.

"Look," he said, "if you're burning out, maybe you _should _blow some of this stuff off."

It almost sounded serious.

She smiled, rolling her eyes. "I get the feeling we just ticked over from a hundred, didn't we?"

He shrugged and she knew that it meant _If you want_.

By her side, her fingers curled and gripped the cuff of her sleeve into her palm.

He grazed the bent elbow of her other arm to catch her eye, looking searchingly at her when he said, "You okay though?"

Lifting her heels just slightly off the sidewalk, she leaned to kiss him before dropping back to earth. "I could ask you the same thing."

Her hand unclasped as he felt for her fingers. Blind because he kissed her back. Not undexterously.

"I'm good," he said when she broke off to wheel him round, pointing them in the direction of the bus stop down the block.

"Me too."

"Okay then."

"Oh-kay," she said, grin widening and bobbing her head with the two syllables. "So what flavor's this taffy?"

The truth was he had woken up sore.

She just ached.

* * *

"You're late."

Paris confronted her at the door of the Franklin office, the room deserted.

"No, I'm early. I fell asleep on the bus because I've been up since 5am, and I might have had some kind of coronary episode when I woke up two minutes ago, but I am _definitely_ early. So why don't we start over. Good moring, Paris."

Paris narrowed her eyes.

"The issue's late."

_Sigh_.

* * *

"You are both late," Michel hissed as Sookie and Lorelai entered the inn's lobby after their lunch. "You are looking suspicious and strange and you are both very, very late."

"Oh pipe down," Sookie told him. Her eyes lit up and she turned back to Lorelai. "Comfort food! That's about as far from celebrating as you can get, right?"

"Sookie, you can't cook and do math at the same time."

Sookie bit her finger. "That's true."

"Let's just get pizza from Pete and go over the figures -"

"But we won't enjoy it!"

"You two," said Michel, his lip curling in distaste, "You have the dead flower smell."

* * *

"Now who on earth is calling at this hour?" Emily said after the sharp, startled breath that drew her head back. "Rory, I'm telling you now, if that's the Philippines or some other frightful place because your grandfather's given out our personal number again, I swear I will -"

The maid entered but said nothing, looking from Rory to Emily and back again.

"Well, who is it Greta? Stop trembling and making those awful shifty eyes at us and announce who has the nerve to call at fourteen minutes past nine?"

"Miss Rory," Greta choked out in a strained voice with her fist over her mouth.

"Are you a fool, Greta? Miss Rory is sitting right here giving you an all too patient look while you splutter away over there. Now tell me this instant who is on the phone."

"Miss Lorelai. For Miss Rory. I think -"

Emily bolted up saying, "That's enough," putting her palm in the air as she said, "Phone."

"... can hear every word you're saying Mom. Greta's going to murder you in your sleep if -"

"What do you want, Lorelai?"

"Just fine, Mom, thanks for asking."

"Lorelai, Rory and I are about ten minutes short of the credits to Roman Holiday, so _do _please get on with whatever you're calling to say."

"Pizza, actually, with Sookie. Sookie's fine by the way, Mom. Of course she's passed out in a carb coma right now, but she and Jackson are great, and it's so sweet of you to ask. But before we get carried away gabbing about me and my evening, do you think you could put Rory on for a sec?"

"Because you can't let me have her even for one night, can you, Lorelai?"

"Mom ..."

"Rory, it's your mother. Tell her goodbye from me, please."

Rory picked up the phone from the console table where Emily had placed it with pincered fingers. "Hel -"

"Are you staying there?"

"What? Where?"

"Tonight. Are you staying there tonight? Because you did it before and I want to know, so are you staying there tonight or not? Just say."

"I hadn't -"

Emily called out, "What does she want, Rory?"

"To know if I'm staying here, Grandma. But I -"

"What a wonderful idea," said Emily, clasping her hands together beneath her chin, "then we can watch Funny Face too! Oh, Rory, I'd love it if you ..."

"What's she saying?" Lorelai's voice quizzed Rory's other ear. "Is she trying to get you to stay there? Are you staying?"

"I don't know. Grandma wants -"

"Fine," came the short reply. "Okay. Good to know. Next time a little notice would be great, but, you know, whatever. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, I guess you will," Rory said flatly and shut her mouth. The tip of her tongue came to rest on the back of her first right-side molar, setting her jaw.

"Well, Fran died so ..."

There was a pause on the line as they both blanked. Rory taking in the words she had heard; Lorelai wondering what had made her blurt them out.

"Fran?" echoed Rory in a small voice.

"The, uh, ... the funeral's tomorrow. At twelve. So -"

"I can't believe you'd just -"

"Rory -"

"Bye."

Both her thumbs pressed the button that ended the call.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading and reviewing.

**P.S.** Seriously, when **did** that fence get broken? Then again, quite a bit about these episodes doesn't make a whole lot of sense, (what happens to the ski trip? Where is Luke when the phone keeps ringing and ringing?), so if you'd bear with me as I try to weave around this stuff, I'd appreciate it! And don't even get me started about Jess staying seventeen for a year and half then suddenly turning eighteen when he's talking to Jimmy.

Thanks again!


	5. Chapter 5

"So," Emily said, turning to Rory as she sat down, "where were we?"

Rory's wan smile was wide and flat and gone the moment Emily squinted down at the video remote.

* * *

The fussy comforter rustled in the dark when she turned over again to stare dry-eyed towards the ceiling. Once more it receded under her scrutiny and the word _oubliette_ sounded so clear in her mind she wondered if she'd actually said it aloud.

Intensely dark under the weight of expensive drapes. She imagined pupils open like sliced tennis balls and shuddered, blinking. Last time she'd made the final quarter-turn onto her back, it had been cathedrals and whether Raymond Carver was right.

Three minutes for the full revolution.

The cocoa would be tepid by now, but if she looked yet again at the old-fashioned, round-faced alarm clock, she'd see that it hadn't even been an hour since her grandmother asked if she was feeling alright, you look tired, do you want to go to bed?

Yes, I'm fine, No, it's okay, But -

But the rest of the movie would keep until next time and no buts, because Emily didn't like how pale she looked - -These schools and the way they worked young people nowadays. It was too much.

So Rory promised, unasked. Before graduation and Europe and, Yes, she was sure she'd find time because it was important. Emily tutted indulgently, but Rory was insistent.

I mean it.

So. Greta would - _Greta!_ - would make cocoa and Rory really must get some sleep because you never know, perhaps she was coming down with something. And at the very least she was overworked and overwrought, go kiss your grandfather goodnight.

Something made it hard to say, so she didn't.

That the kindly old lady who fed her cookies before she was weaned would be buried tomorrow.

She turned onto her side. Again.

* * *

From the steps of the church Lorelai looked back towards the square and risked one hand off Patty's elbow for an arrested wave at Rory crossing the street, a flash of red coat under her arm.

_I'm sorry_.

The note on the phone pad had caught Rory's eye as she dumped her keys in the rush through the living room, mentally cursing Sunday bus schedules.

Pink ink. Large and looping and unmistakably Lorelai.

_Talk later?_

Smaller except for the dot. Disproportionate to overlay the others underneath.

In her room, the three black dresses hung from where they had been hooked over the wardrobe doors. Like Wendy had mended her own shadow and had two spares.

Four pairs of shoes. Three of them Lorelai's.

Rory waved back, shoulder-high.

Then Patty folded, heaving forward, and it was Luke who steadied them both.

* * *

The man on the bench wrapped his newspaper around the paperback inside when he saw Luke go into the church with his hand between the brunette's shoulder blades.

But then the girl appeared and was opening the door, and it was too late.

* * *

"Late," she said breathlessly, kissing him before he could speak. Jess had made it only a step out from behind the register when she flung through the empty diner's door, but he circled her waist at short notice and turned her next word into "Mmph." Turned her abbreviated kiss into another, longer, until she pulled back and said, "Funeral, I have to -"

His forearm released her, and then, more reluctantly, his mouth. Except she responded with a kiss like a postscript before saying, "I'll see you later."

He nodded only to be cut short by the last briefest pressure of her lips, appending no question mark.

She whirled out, coat under her arm sweeping against every chair in her path.

* * *

Too late to sit back down though too. That would look weird. Weird_er_.

He'd missed the window and if he stood there any longer he'd get asked if he was lost for the fourth time. So he was almost relieved when he realized he could see the street that took him back to the motel. And anyway, all the funerals he'd been to lasted less than thirty-five, forty minutes, so who knew. Some less than that. Longer than some of the weddings, but still.

Of course the ring of the door hitting the bell again meant he knew he could just turn around and go back. People did that all the time. Forget stuff. Remember stuff. That there was this thing they meant to do back there.

Because she had been in black, it was obvious.

But the uncanny sound of something that, seriously, couldn't be anything other than a marching band, told him he'd made the right decision.

_Liar_.

* * *

Rory stood a few feet from the door with the other late arrivals, and the Reverend was already speaking at the podium when Lorelai looked round from a pew's end. There was a significant gap between her mother and Sookie, and suddenly Lorelai was sliding across - like the seat had become a conveyor belt - not as unobtrusively as she thought. And it was _far _too close to the front.

Soon though there was a shuffle of people behind the dais and some feedback over the loudspeaker, and Rory took her chance.

"I suck," Lorelai whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"True."

"I snapped. I thought -"

Rory's long, low "Shh-hh" hushed her without impatience as Reverend Skinner and Marjorie struggled with the mic.

But the hushing didn't take, like it never takes.

"I'm sorry."

Palm up, Rory put her hand on the cool wood beside her, looking straight ahead as the eulogy started, and Lorelai sniffed when her daughter closed her fingers tightly on her own. A tissue from Sookie arrived into Lorelai's right.

* * *

Going down the steps, Rory found it was Luke who patted her shoulder and gripped it gently before he descended and headed for the diner. She smiled back.

Reassuring and something more.

She wondered if Jess ever saw it. Felt it. Whether he'd even recognise it if he did. How many seats did she need for graduation?

Luke's heart constricted at the sight of her pink-rimmed eyes, and he would have produced his handkerchief if she hadn't then dabbed at her nose with a crumpled Kleenex.

She was going to be okay.

In his pocket the corner's monogram script read _W. H. D._

He swallowed, quickening his steps back to the diner. Back to all the stuff he had to take care of.

It was a good thing he didn't see Dean approach her as she idled on a midway step, thinking of mashed potatoes.

"Hey, Rory."

"Hmm? Oh! Dean, hey. Sorry, I was miles away."

"I noticed. Have you got a sec?"

"Um, yeah, wh-?" But he'd started down the last few steps and was beckoning her to one side, standing beneath a tree.

"Rory?"

She had been watching for Luke re-entering the diner, and she saw him stop just inside the door and look around. But then he passed out of view heading towards the back, maybe the kitchen. Or to change. Unless Jess was -

"_Rory_."

Dean's voice roused her and she made her way onto the grass with her weight on her toes, mindful of her mother's heels. It gave her an odd, cautious gait, and when she looked up he had folded his arms in a way that irked her.

"The grass," she said. "These aren't my -"

"Rory, just listen, okay? It's really important."

"Oh. It's just, you looked kind of annoyed, so I -"

"I'm _engaged_, Rory."

"Oh." She took a deep breath in, but having let it go, the sound she made was, "Um -"

"So?"

"So ... Congratulations?"

It climbed until there was no doubt it was a question, and the furrows in her forehead matched it by moving steadily upwards and sticking.

He looked down at her like there was a bad taste on his palate that his tongue couldn't locate.

"You're really something, you know that, Rory? You couldn't even say it and mean it. I can't believe I was stupid enough to -"

"I do mean it, but ..."

She couldn't help it. The diner was just in view behind him and a movement inside made her peer. He looked round and saw Jess approach a table by the window with a cloth in his hand.

"God, Rory! I don't _believe_ you. I'm standing here trying to tell you I'm getting married because I thought maybe you'd _care _or something, but clearly you -"

"Why?" she said quietly, looking at him with her head tilted like she was seeing him for the first time. "Why _was_ it so important to tell me, Dean? And right after a funeral. Why couldn't it wait?"

"I don't know." Dismissive. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"I just ... I wanted - -I guess I thought ..."

"What, Dean? What was it you wanted to hear from me"? She was still speaking evenly. "That I'm happy for you?" Her eyes keen with curiosity, not anger. "I guess I will be if you think this will make you happy. But ... I mean," she hesitated, looking for the words. Her shoulders lifted. "I mean, okay, sure, I care if you're happy, but ... I just don't understand the rush. To tell me. Not to get married. Although ... - -You know what, it's none of my business," she said firmly. "Really. It isn't, is it?"

His mouth opened in her pause, but when he didn't reply she went on, "Why then? Why are we standing here?"

The stone in his throat moved but wasn't dislodged, and she counted 5 into the silence.

"I'm still going to college," he told her, looking up from her shoes. Weakly defensive, it wasn't much of an assurance. Even less of an answer.

"Good," she said simply. "I'm glad."

"Lindsay's coming with me."

"Dean, please -"

"It's going to be in the paper," he offered like a shrug.

"Makes sense."

"I just thought you should know, that's all." He didn't notice, but she was frowning again. Not listening. "I just -"

"Why did you do it?"

He thrust his hands into his pockets and took a swipe with his toe at the grass in front of him. "Rory, stop asking, I -"

"Why did you go after him?"

"Go after -? Oh." He shifted his weight, exploring re-emerged fingers across the first knuckle of a soft-closed fist. "You mean ..."

"Why, Dean? I know you hate each other. And I know it's my fault, even. But Jess and I are together, so I need to know that you won't -"

His upper body recoiled away slightly, as if disbelief had a scent that rankled his nostrils.

"Don't tell me you're still with that jackass after he -"

"This! This is what I'm talking about. Don't you see? Can't you hear how weird you sound, talking like that? It's none of your business, Dean. What happens with me and Jess, it's not your -"

Her voice had risen, but she checked herself, twisting a glance behind her self-consciously. His folded arms were cramped down hard, forcing the jacket proud off his shoulders and making him look like a long knot.

"We have our own lives, Dean," she began softly. "When I said we could be friends, I meant -"

"You know what," he said, throwing his arms wide before clapping them to his sides, "let's not. Because I just realized I don't have to stand here and listen to any more of your lectures, Rory. And you're right. You have your life, I have mine."

He made a large, theatrical gesture towards her then back at himself. Rory sighed and bit down behind her close-pressed lips. Then he shrugged, hunching hands back into his pockets. Tipped his chin at her.

"Hope you get what you want."

She rolled her eyes as he stalked away.

* * *

"Do I pay you to stare out the window?"

"You don't pay me enough not to."


	6. Chapter 6

Jess didn't look round to where Luke's voice issued from behind the counter, though the cloth began moving again in a slow arc because he eased his weight off that arm. Luke threw his hands up and went back to the kitchen.

Not that there were any customers to serve, Luke thought. Not with the macabre procession, the burial, the wake. The elaborate rites of death in Stars Hollow.

Rights the dead have on the living. The last. Like a toll for _not _crossing over. Better pay up. And you do because it's not you yet. Because you better hope someone else will when it is.

But he wasn't about to trail 'round after a casket in some big production, trying to check his watch with Patty leaning on him again, making him deaf in one ear. Or having to go shuffle-for-shuffle with some old coot at the back he'd have to bend down to hear. The same story three times and get called Sonny or Billy or ...

Maybe later he'd close up early and make an appearance at the wake. He could stand it, he thought. For a while. Same story eleven times. Have to put the suit back on.

If anything, a trickle of tourists. Antiquers. Singular, serious. Odd. Or unserious couples, well-off, unencumbered by kids. Looking for afternoon tea - _the bakery's closed, so we thought - _and finding coffee and donuts.

A handful of mourners might roll in maudlin drunk at 8.30 for coffee and company and gossip. Maybe he should just close up now, but -

"We might get stragglers," Luke barked from the back, "from this walk-with-the-casket thing, so -"

"Who the hell can't keep up with a casket?"

"Just make some coffee, okay?" Luke yelled. "And keep your voice down, Jess, for crying out loud." _The ones who'll go next._ "How about a little respect?"

He wasn't listening.

Still there.

Past his reflection, it was as if the hands she rushed back through her hair tore her head back to look at the sky and held it there. Elbows too high for too long. But then her face went forward into her palms, where it pulled through slowly and back again, until peaked fingers pressed beside her nose.

She hadn't moved.

Hugged herself as she looked around. And began to pick her way across the last few feet of grass to the sidewalk. Jaywalking purposefully towards the diner.

So he turned away.

* * *

"I give up," she said plumping down into a chair and shrugging her coat over its back, partway inside out.

"You do, huh?"

She watched his shoulder blades move as he shook a rough last measure of grounds into the machine. A pot half-full on the counter behind him.

"Yup. I tried, it didn't work, I give up."

"That stuff's old," his back said with a half-shrug, snapping a mechanism into place. "But if you want it -"

"I'll take it," she said. "When you're done, I mean."

He craned back to pick a mug from one of the cubbyholes and she added, "Join me?"

"No thanks." Centering the fresh pot under its drip.

"Is Luke -?"

"Kitchen," he said coming forward, her mug hanging off his finger.

When he finished pouring, her nose followed the steam and she moulded her hands around the earthenware, looking into it. He set the pot down on her table and cursorily scraped one of its chairs further under on his way back to the counter. Flicked the rag up off the formica with a damp eardrum pop and kept moving.

"It _is_ weird, though, right?" she said, bringing the cradled mug close to her chest as she sat back. "To tell someone you're getting married at a funeral?"

He turned back from the table he'd slapped the cloth onto, frowning - "What?" - wrist flattening as he leaned, twisted.

"What comes with mashed potatoes?"

"_What_?"

"- -Luke?" she ended.

Twisted more to see.

In the doorway, Luke looked up from his list. "Anything," he said with a benign shrug. "As long as you got fifteen minutes, give or take. Who's getting married?"

"Oh, um ... I probably -"

"Nevermind," Luke said, waving a square surrender with pencil and pad. "So, mashed potatoes?"

"Please."

"With?"

"A spoon."

He smiled, flipping the list-pad forward onto the surface from a height. "Coming up."

Her smile back, tight with the wait. Waiting, listening for the sounds of clattering.

Cantilevered behind by both arms now - though Luke had eyeballed him before turning for the kitchen - Jess started tapping something unrhythmic on the underside of the table edge.

"So, I'm right to feel weird about it, aren't I?" she said leaning forward again over her coffee.

"Yeah, most people use a fork."

"Ha ha," she retorted, unamused. "About that." Flapping vaguely at the window.

The pretence of looking round. "About what?" A different frown.

She shrunk round the mug, making her eyes loud to mouth at minimal volume, "Dean. Getting married."

"Wait, seriously?"

"Yes, _seriously. _Why would I -?"

"Huh."

"So I give up." The spiked fingers hinged to reclasp.

"Because you feel weird," he said blandly.

"Yes."

One finger rubbed down his nose. "About him getting married."

"Yes. No. About him making such a big deal of ... I don't even know. Of telling me." She shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Huh."

"At a funeral, you know? It's ... off. Or just ...- -It's _weird_."

He nodded slightly. "No argument."

"Okay. Good. I shouldn't feel bad then." She took a sip. "I tried, it didn't work. It's not my fault."

Setting the coffee pot back down, she sighed. "Maybe it's my fault. But I didn't know what to say, and he got so mad so quickly -"

"He got mad at you?"

"It's not like I told him getting married at eighteen is stupid. And I -"

"You didn't?"

"Jess."

"Sorry. Carry on."

"Anyway, it's done. Maybe you can't always _be _friends. And I tried."

He aborted the hampered stretch and felt his shoulder for a second. Went back to tapping and glanced out to the group assembling in front of the church. Downing her mouthful, she followed his eyeline. Dropped her chin in a cupped hand.

"So," he said, "you guys aren't friends anymore?"

"Am I a terrible person? I'm a terrible person. Maybe he meant it as a nice thing. Like, he has news. The kind of news you tell your friends. And we were sort of friends, so ..."

He shrugged.

"I mean, I _did _tell him congratulations," she said, rocking the mug around its edge. "It's just ... everything. What happened the other night, the funeral ... I don't know."

"Hey, you tried, right?"

"Yeah," she exhaled.

"So forget it."

"Okay. I should. You're right. And it made me feel weird. I _still _feel weird. The word 'weird' sounds weird."

"So stop."

"Okay. I will. I have."

He pulled out the chair opposite her. Distorted mirror-image of her posture when he lifted his chin off the heel of his hand and said, "Guess I gotta go card shopping then."

Her laugh made him smile then bite it.

* * *

"I missed you last night," she told him as he set down fresh coffee with a second mug and sat.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. And stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Your face," she said, holding a hand up to screen it. "Stop it."

"Can't. Sorry."

"_Try_."

"Nope."

"Okay, you can get back to work now." The screen became a wave. "Bye."

"Maybe you can have Luke put up a sign, huh?"

"Yes, perfect: No Faces for Jess."

"So, when'd you get back? You didn't call but I figured -"

"This morning."

"What?" A new frown. "How come?"

"It's a long story," she said lifting the pot. Turned the handle towards him when she'd finished.

He took it, filling his mug.

"I got time."

"You've read Carver's 'Cathedral', yes? With the -"

"Jealous husband and the blind guy? Yeah, why?"

* * *

"And worse," she said later, "I got sent to bed at maybe four minutes past ten."

"Because you were bad or something? What was it, elbows on the table? Did you curse? Tell me you said 'ass', come on."

"You're so weird." Not quite sniggering.

"You were naughty, admit it."

"Shut up, you _ass_. I wasn't bad, I looked like I was sick. And I think I fell asleep around two. I couldn't even study or -"

He looked up from his mug. "Are you sick?"

"No. Probably just the whole fight-with-Mom stuff." Minutely re-paralleled the mug handle. "And Fran."

"Right. I guess. You ... okay? Your mom and all that -"

"Uh-huh," she nodded through the yawn, knuckling her eye. "I miss her. Fran. And with Mom ... I mean, it's not fixed or anything. I'm still mad that she's made it so weird - -God, my vocabulary has officially contracted to a single word, I _hate_ that."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Honestly? I have no idea."

Right to the bottom, she was empty. No matter how long she looked.

"Dictionary?" he said, unvising the lip.

"Yeah, that's not going to help, I think."

"Thesaurus then."

Not quite a laugh, but close enough. She reached for the coffee. Her first new sip and after it another of her rare silences.

"Could've called, you know," he said. "If you wanted."

"At two a.m?"

"Sure," he shrugged. Straightfaced. "Why not."

"Because Luke."

"Because Luke ...?"

"Sleeps. You know, upstairs." The exaggerated pointing got a smirk. "About fourteen feet from you."

"Oh, _that _Luke."

"So."

"So." Another shrug. "Earlier then. If you wanted."

"I thought about it," she said, watching as he tilted the cup on its axis with a fingertip inside the rim to make it pivot. "But it was late by then and, I don't know ..."

"And Luke."

"Yeah." Mouth screwed to one side.

"How late is late, anyway?"

"Why?"

"Just trying to figure out how long it takes to start missing me."

"Oh, there is _so _going to be a sign, I mean it."

"Can't wait."

"And after this, it'll probably take a _lot _longer to miss you."

"So first you're banning my face and now -"

"Also," she appended, "my Mom's always been _very _clear that Grandma has this super-sensitive hearing that kicks in after lights out."

"She'd know, I guess."

"Uh-huh. And she said pillowing the door's less effective than you'd think."

He grimaced. "Okay, now you're just creeping me out."

"Good. You deserve it." Sharp with mirth. "And I wanted to call, okay? So take back that fake wounded thing, right now."

The table rang under her jabbing finger.

"I have no idea what you're -"

"And maybe pick up once in a while?" she added. "So I don't always get Luke."

"Oh, come on -"

"_Al_ways," she drew out.

He rolled his eyes but conceded. "Fine."

Topping up her mug, she said, "Lane would've recommended the wardrobe," looking thoughtful, "I wonder ..."

"See," he interrupted, "You _are _bad. I knew it."

"Shh-ut up, or I'm going to Sharpie it right on the wall, and then-"

"Yeah, no one pays attention to signs," he said, elbow up to rest his temple on two fingers. "Still, next time your loony family shanghai you someplace -"

"I'll call, I promise. That is, _if _I get stupid and start missing you."

"Never not cruel."

"Not that I _want _to get shanghaied or stranded or whatever -"

"Put in a convent."

"- -Anytime soon though. And stop it."

"Not until you make the sign."

"I will," she said. The threat was carried by the way she pointed at him, but undercut by what trying not to laugh did to her face. "Convents don't have phones either."

"Then we need to get you a cell."

"In case I'm immured in one," she said matter-of-factly.

"So you're queen of puns now?"

"I'll settle for princess."

"Yeah, I hate to tell you, but alliteration?" He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Not hilarious. At all."

"Motion denied. So, did you miss me?"

Lacing fingers at his neck, he settled back against the rungs of the chair and said, "You really want to know?"

"You are -"

"Mashed potatoes and spoon," Luke announced at the doorway.

"Thanks Luke," she managed, but not in any voice she recognised. Straightened the spoon with her forefinger, looking down.

"D'you ever hear," said Jess, ignoring Luke towering behind her with fists on his hips, "that thing about Billie Holiday?"

"Jess," Luke interrupted, "anytime you feel like doing a little work, just go right ahead, okay? Don't let me stop you."

"You mean _all _these customers," he took the diner in with a sweep, "aren't gonna serve themselves?"

"Luke, blame me," she said. "It's my -"

"Yeah, blame her, Luke. She's distracting the hell out of me. How am I -"

"Jess, for the love of - -Don't leave stuff like this," - Luke brandished the rag off a table - "lying around, jeez." He shook his head, muttering something like "I don't know ..." which trailed off as he got further away.

"Look," said Jess, "if it makes you feel better, _I_ blame you."

"And to think, I tried to save you." The spoonful of potato menaced him. "And the answer's yes, but you can't put me off mashed potatoes, so -"

"About Lady Day, or missing you?"

Her mouth was full and he went on, "Sounds like a dare too. Is it a dare?"

"Mmn-nm," and the shake of her head told him _No,_ until she swallowed and said, "FYI, you need to get one too."

"One what?"

"Cell."

"Yeah, I think they frown on guys in convents generally."

"Pflt- -I bet it's worse than frown."

"Define worse," he said, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

* * *

"So," Luke said, "he's getting married?"

The bell still ringing and Jess's hand not yet off the steel closing plate.

"Jeez!" The flinch disappeared in the blur, the noise of Rory's chair going under. His own.

"Sor-Ry," was sliced into two with equal taunting emphasis. "I forget you get so absorbed in your work."

"Whatever," said Jess, hooking their empty mugs. "And when'd you join the knitting circle, anyway?"

"Jess -"

"'Cos if you're trying to scoop Patty -"

Luke's arm gibbetted. "Go wash Rory's dishes, alright?"

"- she's got a mean left hook," Jess finished as he passed into the kitchen.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking around and reading. Especially because we're not even at the end of Sunday. Still, it won't be another month away, at least:

_"... I get that we're not officially at the peace treaty signing stage of this thing yet, but can we call, like, a truce or something just for -"_

_"Yes."_

If you've got a second to review, I'd really appreciate it.


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